


Sweet Tooth

by squarepeg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bribery, Domestic Fluff, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, M/M, Nervous Harry Potter, Short & Sweet, Sleepyhead Draco Malfoy, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squarepeg/pseuds/squarepeg
Summary: Harry is unspeakably nervous for Ron and Hermione's wedding and it'd be nice if Draco would wake up and be there for him. That's what husbands are supposed to do, right? Be there for each other in good times and bad, sickness and health, until death do they part and all that rot? At least Harry knows exactly what he has to do to get his husband's attention.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71
Collections: Valentine's day 2021





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 296: Draco but he can be heavily bribed/controlled/swayed by sweets. 
> 
> Hey guys! I wrote this ficlet for the TMOE discord server Valentine's Day Fic Exchange. I've been super enjoying being part of the community over there as Dr. Gin, chiming in when chapters drop and reading all of your excellent theories. Sorry for the late addition to the fic party, but I was inspired by all of your awesome fanworks and loved this prompt so I kinda quickly ran with it. I couldn't see who suggested this one in particular, but I hope it isn't too awful. Happy Valentine's Day. :)

“Baby, I really need you to get up,” Harry prodded his husband forcefully for what felt like the millionth time that morning. He’d been waiting for Ron and Hermione's wedding since Draco was no more than a recurring nuisance in his periphery and he was not going to let his blond spouse ruin it by sleeping in too late. He wasn’t even being that hyperbolic about it either. He had been bubbling over with nerves since three in the morning, pacing divots into their floorboards between the closet and the bathroom with his excessive energy. Even the magical mirror, meant to lift the gazer’s spirits, was becoming vocally derisive of him, sick to death of watching Harry alternately practicing his speeches or hopelessly attempting to smooth down his hair. The mirror was so desperate for a break from his blathering that it had encouraged him to shower twice already. 

Waking Draco up for company was proving to be a fool’s errand as well. Harry was trying his best to keep his famed temper in check, but it was just like his husband to completely forget what an important day this was for him, Ron and Hermione. It was arguably the most important day in all of their lives, but Harry was the one feeling the pressure of making it perfect and he desperately needed Draco’s support in that endeavor. Support that was pretty hard to come by from the louche, snoring figure draped in blankets and hogging all of the pillows on their bed. It’s fairly rare for a person to be the best man, the man of honor and the officiant at the same wedding and Harry thought that he deserved some love and encouragement for dealing with all of that responsibility. So Draco had approximately negative two hours to get his arse out of bed and give him the attention that he desired. 

“Baby, please,” Harry tried pleading with him a little louder, yanking the blankets away in time with his words. 

“What? Potter? Gi’tha’back.” Draco pulled the blankets from the floor and huddled within them like a particularly aggrieved turtle. 

“Get. Up.” Harry used his Auror Voice, the one that made hardened criminals shake in their dragonhide boots and petty thieves throw their lifelong friends right under the night bus. Draco flipped him the bird, a gesticulation he had picked up from going to the pub with Seamus and Dean on their double date nights. Draco only seemed interested in the dregs of muggle culture and they really shone through at the worst of times. “I mean it, Malfoy. It’s seven already and I swear to all that I hold dear that if you make me late to my best mates’ wedding — er, well, you’ll pay somehow — I promise you that.”

Draco poked his head out from under the duvet and arched an eyebrow condescendingly over his no longer sleep addled gaze. It was abundantly clear to Harry that he did not believe a word of that empty threat. “What time is it?”

“Seven!”

“And what time are we supposed to be at the Weasley’s?”

“One!”

“So six hours from now?”

“Yes, but —”

Draco dove back under the covers and turned his back on Harry. “I will not be getting up before ten, Potter. You know the rules. Don’t interrupt my beauty sleep.”

“You’re hardly sleeping anymore,” Harry couldn’t fully make out his husband’s response to that one, but he knew it was something persnickety from the clipped, garbled words and the tone of his voice. When a handful of shoves to Draco’s back brokered no response, Harry knew it was time to pull out his ace in the hole. 

“Draco, baby,” Harry smoothed his hand over the pale skin that he had roughhoused only moments prior. “I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes if you get up right now.”

Silver eyes met green again, narrowing skeptically to consider their options. “The American kind? Like the ones we had at that lumjohn pub in California on our honeymoon?”

“Lumberjack diner and yes, I’ll make them just like those.”

“Tall stack? With bananas and whip cream?”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

“And a fresh pour-over of the Colombian coffee with firewhisky cream and fairy sugar?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Harry acquiesced quickly, knowing from experience that he was teetering on the dangerous precipice between docile acceptance of his offer and righteous indignation at his transparent manipulation. 

“And hot fudge and sprinkles on top?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, I already said that you can have whatever you want.”

Draco tossed the covers off of himself and sprung out of bed like he had never been arguing against it at all. He leaned heavily against Harry and gave him a good morning peck on the cheek. “You can get breakfast started while I shower and I’ll meet you in the kitchen to make sure that you’re being gentle enough with the coffee beans.” 

“Quick turnaround there, Malfoy,”

Draco smirked, “I could hardly be expected to sleep soundly with you blabbing to yourself about how much Weasley and Granger mean to you for hours and hours on end. I get it, Harry, you’re a tenderhearted buffoon. A tenderhearted buffoon who owes me chocolate chip pancakes and boozy breakfast beverages.”

“Beverages?”

“Like I’d show up to a Weasley wedding sober.”

Harry peeled Draco’s arms off his waist and pushed him towards the bathroom, “Go shower, you sneaky bastard.”

Draco leaned back in to kiss Harry soundly on the lips and run his hands through the unruly mop of black hair he loved so much. Harry wriggled uncomfortably away from him, still jumpy from perseverating over all of his anxieties. “Weasley and Granger love you unconditionally, those idiots. It wouldn’t matter if you showed up in nothing but your Gryffindor tie, they’d fall over themselves with stars in their eyes and gush over your performance anyway. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Says you,” Harry grumbled. 

“Exactly. You’d best take it from me, historically your harshest critic,” Draco winked. “You’ll be fine.” 

“They deserve perfect, babe. I can’t just be fine. Everything has to be perfect.” 

Draco gentled his hand against Harry’s cheek tenderly. “Of course it’ll be perfect, Harry. It’s you. Now go and make me some pancakes before I tire of your insecurities entirely!”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“I love you,” Draco called over his shoulder as he sauntered into the bathroom. 

“I love you, too.”


End file.
